Finding Red Sneakers
by Chestnutlass
Summary: Sometimes it is difficult to see something right in front of your face…"Mommy….tell me how you fell in love with Daddy…”


"Mommy….tell me how you fell in love with Daddy…"

The gentle words made her heart hammer in her chest. It so often amazed by the little girl crawling onto the bed and under the covers. "Oh my little girl that is a very long story indeed. Much too long to be told all tonight."

"Well can you start telling me the story?"

"I suppose…well you see the story of your mommy and daddy starts when I was just a little girl, not so much older then you." Her voice started wistfully as she told the tale.

That's not true Mommy!" The little girl interrupted forcibly. "You didn't even know Daddy back then…you said you met him at work! When you were a grown-up!"

Brennan couldn't help but laugh at the indignant way her daughter refused to be told half-truths. "That is very true, but what you don't know is that I dreamed of your Daddy long before I met him. You see when I was just a little girl I dreamed of a man with dark brown hair…"

The little girl had settled some at the explanation. "Just like daddy."

Brennan continued. "Just like daddy, I knew he had kind eyes that crinkled in the corners a bit when he smiled."

The story was exciting the little girl. "Daddy has that too!"

Brennan tapped her finger on the tip of the little girl's nose. "Of course, I would imagine he was a hero that rescued people."

When her brown eyes lit up with excitement and pride she looked exactly like her father, causing Brennan's heart warm even more. "Daddy always wins against the bad guys!"

"He would love to hear us say that. There is only one thing your Daddy is more proud of then his job." The innocence on the child's face told her mother that she couldn't think ANYTHING better then fighting bad guys. "You little one, and your brother. Being a daddy is what makes him the most proud." The little girl managed to snuggle in deeper against her mother, "But when I dreamed of your father my favorite was when I would picture someone that would stand behind me and rest against my shoulder, a special hug to tell me he loved me." Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion as she described the loving stance she so often took with her husband.

The little girl's voice was soft and low to match her mother's reverence. "You and Daddy always stand like that, and he smells your hair, it always makes you both smile."

"Your daddy has always known just how to make me smile." The words were said like they were the truest things ever spoken.

The little girl disagreed. "But not when you were a little girl. Daddy wasn't there to make you smile when you were a little girl." Her innocent voice was sad. She didn't know everything about her mom, but she had heard enough whispers that mommy didn't smile very much before daddy.

"No your right, he wasn't always there, but the thought of him was. He was the man that was in my dreams. I just didn't know where to find him. I think even when I felt alone; somewhere he was out there, comforting me."

The mother tucked an unruly strand of auburn curls behind her daughter's ear. Strange how she found the act very soothing. The little girl's eyes were growing heavy. "When I was a girl I imagined him finding me, us meeting and falling in love. But sometimes bad things happen and we forget our dreams, our wishes our hopes."

"Did bad things happen to you Mommy?" This wasn't the first time the young girl had asked such a direct question, and while she hated lying, the truth was not exactly necessary.

"Sometimes bad things have to happen in order for the good things that happen. And you, you and your daddy are the very BEST things that can happen." She really did believe her own words. Although not a believer in fate, she had to recognize that she wouldn't be where she was if her past had been altered.

"So you dreamed about daddy for a LONG LONG time, and then you saw him and instantly feel in love and had me!" The innocent statement was said with such certainty that the woman laughed.

"No that is not entirely true." The little girls face scrunched in confusion, her eyes burrowing into her mother's. In that moment she had never looked more like her father. "You see, I forgot my dream. I started to believe that there was no man, that there would never be someone who would love me like that. So when I met your father I didn't recognize him."

"What about you, mommy? Did daddy dream about you? Why didn't he recognize you?"

"Just like mommy, daddy had a broken heart. He was sad too. And no he didn't recognize me either. "

She looked at her daughter's face. Since Booth she had gotten much better at translating her "squint speak," but she sometimes still struggled with explaining things to her young daughter. "Well baby, you know how when you are looking for your favorite red sneakers, sometimes you don't see them, even though they are right in front of you?" The little girl's curls bounced as she nodded. "Well love is like your sneakers, so often, when it is sitting right out in the open, you are so used to seeing it, that you don't even realize it is there." Brennan smiled at that remembrance of his steady love, always there, yet unseen.

"But soon you saw him, just like I finally find my red sneakers."

"Yes, just like your red sneakers." The child lay against her chest, a thumb instantly to her mouth in preparation of rest. She had, for the most part, outgrown sucking her thumb it was sometimes required when soothing herself to sleep. Temperance knew she should roust the girl somehow, try to keep her awake until her father could come, could be sure she was in the proper PJ's and tucked in her own bed. But for right now there was nothing that could tear the now sleeping child from her mother's grasp.

It was some time later when the sound of the door opening woke Temperance.

A deep voice whispered. "Hey, how are my two best girls tonight?"

He leaned over, placed a gentle hand on his daughter's cheek while he kissed his wife's bald head.

She smiled at his affection and brought her tube covered hand up to his cheek. "The symptoms were slightly lessened today; the antiemetic they have given me appears to negate many of the side-effects of the chemotherapy. After a very short nap this afternoon I was feeling well enough to eat the dinner Angela brought by."

Looking down at the sleeping bundle in the bed, Booth smiled. "I see Angela also brought you the very best medicine."

Brennan smiled softly. "She really always seems to make me feel better; it must be those strong protective Booth genes." She leaned up and brushed her lips against his before settling her head against his shoulder. "Just like you always have, she makes me feel loved, feel the need to fight."

"I'm glad. She needs you to fight. I need you to fight. We all need you to fight." His hands ever so reverently caressed her arm.

"I have always been a fighter Booth. This assailant is no different." She watched as he took her small pale hand in his larger one. "The oncologist continues to assure me that my prognosis is promising."

He wanted to listen to her promises that she would still be there for their 10th, their 20th, their 5oth Anniversary but he was afraid their daughter would wake up. She didn't need to know the darkness of the world; not just yet. "So what did you two do this evening?"

"I told her the story of us…" her voice trailed off sleepily. Nothing made her relax like lying in his arms.

He chuckled. "Oh really?..." She didn't need to look at his face to see his brown eyes sparkle as he teased her. "And what did you tell our innocent little girl about THAT series of misadventures?"

"I simply told her the truth." She turned her face so that her clear blue eyes met his strong brown ones. "That I have loved you forever; it just took me a long time to find you. I told her that sometimes the winding path is what leads you home." He listened to her breathing slow, as she settled to sleep. For nearly an hour he watched them, wondering what filled both their dreams.

Booth knew he should take his daughter home; that he should put her to sleep in her own bed, in the yellow room the two of them had painted the very week the stick turned pink. But tonight they were going to sleep together, with his wife and baby girl safe in his arms. For now if this bed was where she was, then this bed would be home.


End file.
